


In the Realm of the Senses

by romanticalgirl



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 1-23-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	In the Realm of the Senses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 1-23-09

Lancelot sat at the far edge of the fire, his dark hair casting a wild shadow from the golden flame. The grey-brown walls flickered and darkened then faded to fog, the forest creeping up on him, armed with creatures he could hear, but could not see.

“Rest,” a voice commanded, and Arthur did, wondering where Lancelot had gone.

**

The beasts found him, their jaws and sharp razor claws tearing at his skin. He cried out, caught in their awful grip and unable to get away, to find his sword. He smelled fresh blood, pouring like wine from gaping wounds. More teeth bit at him, and he struggled until a hand touched him and somehow he was still.

**

He cried out as he was torn apart, limbs rent from his body. There was smoke and ice, fire and fog, and he could not breathe. He was worse than dead, alive and immobile, helpless and without hope. 

He heard a distant stream and the heat faded, and he wondered why he was forsaken, why he is alone.

**

The light seemed far too bright and he blinked in an effort to adjust. There were distant sounds that filtered in and he groaned as his mind forced them to make sense. “How long?” His voice creaks with disuse, his throat dry.

“Eighty days.”

He did not try to sit up, knowing he was far too weak to do even that. “How do we fare?”

“The Woads have been mostly silent through the winter. We’ve lost two nights and several children. Livestock has done better.”

“Children.”

“The fever came with the cold.” Lancelot said nothing else and Arthur closed his eyes. 

“The Woads?”

“We’ve found some dead, several abandoned. We left them where they lay. All of our sick are separate from the rest.”

“Why are you here? Are you sick?”

“You would let no one in save I was present. Several of the others say it is a grand plot to kill me off.”

“Surely there are easier ways to kill you.”

“None quite so agonizing.” He stood, the fire glinting off his smooth black leather. “You should rest now, regain your strength.”

“And where will you go?”

“To bed.” Lancelot rubbed his face and Arthur could see the strain that had aged Lancelot far beyond eighty days. Still, he smiled as he saw Arthur’s concern. “Someone had to watch over everything. We could not all spend our time lounging about in bed.”


End file.
